


How to Convey

by DarkestHeir



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Background Relationships, Father/Son Incest, Fluff, Getting Together, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 10:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19392088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestHeir/pseuds/DarkestHeir
Summary: that I might love you





	How to Convey

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me why, or where it came from, just know that they make me soft.

Moomin wasn’t sure where this feeling came from. 

It just was there one day. It warmed him like Snufkin’s songs, like the sun in the summer, blankets in the winter.  
He wasn’t good at poetry, he tried with Snufkin’s guidance of words and his wonderful voice; a voice that seemed to comprehend what he didn’t with full clarity.

Like Snufkin could recognize the glimmer that was suddenly there and shared a knowing look.  
Snufkin never turned cold, but warmed. Like suddenly a piece of worried snow melted at the familiar predicament. 

So Moomin sat, trying to figure out words, words he wasn’t good with to fit into his mouth that didn’t sound right. He scribbled them down and tried his best to make something as good as the stories he’s heard. Until paper piled up, and towered, and realized how bad he felt for wasting such things. Scribbled them in the dirt and hoped the earth would give him a better way to convey what he was feeling. 

He didn’t have the experience he thought, Snufkin’s retelling tales of eyes like ice and hair as dark as the deepest caves were much more than he could imagine. Snufkin explained how he thought of poetry for Moomin, with the flowers of spring and the radiant sky. All the while Moomin stared up at the clouds trying to figure out a way to convey the way they looked to him. For all one knows it started when he was young. Hiding in hats and underneath desks and making messy paw prints with the ink that wrote extraordinary tales that were told. 

Was brown as the loving earth a good line? Surely not.

Moomin tried, trying to express what seemed unexplainable. Until the ice blue eyes found their way to Moominvalley, and the stories all connected. The smoke of different tobacco finding their way into Snufkin’s scarf and hair, and the glimmer once only in his eye was bright and visible in Snufkin’s as well. 

“Words can only do so much,” The inky black hair said one night, after blurting out a question of what he might be feeling. (ink, ink that made the stories, that made the house… that made him.)  
It wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t okay, “Feelings just are.”The eyes followed him, smoke drifting into the sky, "You can live your life wishing for what could have been, or you can find out whether you’re wrong here and today.”

The words had echoed for days, talking to Snufkin, and he would nod, like he knew the answer. He did, Moomin remembered as he stepped up towards the study, study filled with memoirs and books of everything and anything to be found. 

“Not everything, my boy” Pappa once said, and he’s right. When he was younger, he was sure everything was there. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this, not even Snufkin with his own father.

“What is it Moomin?”Pappa asked, writing away at some paper still, recognizing his sons footsteps all too well of course.  
They lived in the same house, this was his father, of course, of course-

Moomin tried, he did try, he tried to speak and say something but all that left his mouth was a squeaking word filled with an overwhelming flood of emotion, which in the end didn’t sound like much at all. 

Moominpappa turned in his chair, concerned about the water noise, the higher pitch that Moomin always got when he was about to cry. His wonderful and amazing son.  
There was a brief pause where Moomin sniffled, wondering if he would get kicked out after this day. So he took a leap; he can live confused and hurt or be sad with certainty. 

Moomin stepped forward to his father, nuzzling the side of his snout with his own in a traditional kiss, one more than familial, one he had done with Snorkmaiden and continues with Snufkin.  
It was like the Groke had come through wither her familiar icy path, and nothing moved, no sound escaped. The world seemed to be holding its breath as Moomin sniffled, tucking his snout into Pappa’s neck to avoid what may come next.

The world seemed to have exploded, Moomin thought with certainty as arms wrapped around him The world ended as the breath was taken out of him when Pappa squeezed him gently with affection. 

They both pulled back, and Moomin had his eyes closed as he felt a kiss back, slow and filled with love. 

Moomin was still tiny, he wondered briefly how long it would take for him to grow like Pappa as he sat in his lap. Their tails were wound together as Moomin took a deep breath.

He hoped it would be a very long time from now.

**Author's Note:**

> Not feeling too good, so I made this instead.


End file.
